


Save Me

by darkangel0410



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-25
Updated: 2012-09-25
Packaged: 2017-11-15 00:54:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/521346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkangel0410/pseuds/darkangel0410
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick knows Pete better than anyone else does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Save Me

The thing was, Patrick knew Pete better than anyone; maybe it was a product of living in each other's heads since the van days, getting in there deep enough to be able to make music from a few sentences scrawled across a napkin at 3:30 in the morning. Or maybe it was that same instant chemistry that had Pete calling Patrick out for wearing argyle and Patrick punching him in the face for being an asshole at their first meeting, but that still let them become best friends. Whatever it was, the simple fact was that Patrick knew Pete better than any other person on the planet; he knew it, Pete knew it and Ashlee knew it.

 

He watched and he listened and if something didn't feel right to him, Patrick stubbornly harassed Pete until he caved and told him what was bothering him. The last time he had ignored his gut when it said something was wrong with Pete, he had almost lost his best friend. So now he followed his instincts and always, _always_ , made sure to talk to him when something didn't feel right.

 

Which was why Patrick was using his key to get into Pete and Ashlee's house at 4:00 am after he got a text that scared the shit out of him - _h_ _ow did i get here, and what went wrong. i can hardly remember the look of my own eyes_ \- and Pete wouldn't answer any of his calls. 

 

Patrick went upstairs as quietly as he could, conscious of the fact that if Bronx was there, he'd be sleeping still. Hemmy came down the hallway to meet him at the top of the stairs, a happy whine in the back of his throat. Patrick paused to pet him, looking down the hall the dog had just come from; it was the hallway the guest bedroom was in, not the one where the master bedroom was. 

 

He hesitated for a second before he slowly made his way down the hallway, Hemingway padding along beside him. 

 

Patrick slipped into the bedroom and saw Pete laying face down on the bed, his feet hanging off the side, his head shoved under a pillow. 

 

Hemmy sat down and glanced from Pete to Patrick, as if to say, “Alright, asshole, I did what I could, now it's your turn,”; even as he sat down on the bed next to Pete, Patrick wondered when the hell he had started taking orders from a dog. 

 

“Hey, Trick,” Pete said without bothering to move the pillow; despite being muffled, Patrick could hear the bleak tone and it worried him. “I figured it would take you a day or two to get out here.”

 

“You know better than that,” Patrick told him, stretching out alongside Pete and bumping their shoulders against each other. He was fairly sure he knew what had happened but he still nudged Pete's ankle with his foot. “Want to talk about it?”

 

“Not yet,” Pete answered as he rolled over onto his side; he tossed the pillow onto the floor and looked at Patrick. He looked like he wasn't sleeping very much but that wasn't exactly anything new and as Patrick carefully searched Pete's face for signs that he was messing with his meds or anything else, he internally breathed a sigh of relief when he didn't see anything.

 

Having Bronx had separated Pete from most of his self-destructive tendencies, but Patrick still needed to check; to reassure himself that despite being stressed, Pete was handling things.

 

Pete, for his part, understood Patrick's worrying and let Patrick look him over without bitching or complaining about it.

 

“OK,” Patrick said eventually, sitting up and stretching a little. “Want to go get breakfast or something?”

 

“Not really,” Pete said, rolling back onto his stomach. “I kind of just want to wallow for a little bit.”

 

“Fine,” Patrick decided, rearranging himself so he was leaning against the headboard, he kicked off his sneakers and rested his feet down by Pete's head.

 

“But if you're still not talking tomorrow afternoon, I'm calling the rest of the guys and planning an intervention,” Patrick warned as he settled more comfortably and closed his eyes.

 

“Thanks, Trick,” Pete whispered and squeezed Patrick's ankle before he curled up on his side, letting out a sigh.

 

Patrick didn't say anything, just pressed his leg into Pete's back; Pete would talk by morning, he knew, and Patrick would help him however he could.


End file.
